


King Blot

by Schaden_freude



Category: Epic Mickey (Video Games)
Genre: Gen, aaaaaangst
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:07:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24651319
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Schaden_freude/pseuds/Schaden_freude
Summary: Basically a novelization of that one scene in the game where the Blot takes Mickey's heart. And that's about it.
Relationships: Mickey Mouse & Oswald the Lucky Rabbit
Kudos: 19





	King Blot

Mickey knelt, panting, on one of the few stable platforms on Mickeyjunk Mountain. He was exhausted, and yet his body was powered by pure adrenaline. Fighting the blotlings, those savage ink monsters, sure was a workout! He felt exhilarated. 

Standing up, tucking the paintbrush into it’s sheathe behind his back, Mickey looked out over the mountain. From here he could see almost all of Wasteland--from the tiny Partners statue in Mean Street all the way out to the sails of the ships in Tortooga. Here and there, the world was beginning to regain its color. From this vantage point, Mickey had to admit Wasteland was beautiful, in its own quirky way. He took in a deep breath, taking note of the smell of paint. For the first time in a long time, Mickey felt like he really had a chance of making things right again. 

“Nice view, isn’t it?” Mickey saw Gremlin Gus appear in the corner of his eye. “This used to be a sightseeing spot. People would come up here on a clear day, and they could see all of Wasteland.”

Mickey started to answer, but was interrupted by a piercing scream. “HEEEEELP!!” 

Startled into action, Mickey and Gus raced up the remaining platforms, to the summit of the mountain. 

Amid the clutter of merchandise, thinner, and ink, a huge green bottle lay, its shadow spreading across one side of the mountain. As Mickey bounded closer, he saw his reflection in the dark green glass. For just a moment, his eyes caught the mouse in the glass, and he stared. Something was inside the bottle, moving fluidly like a liquid, some dark substance. 

The cry for help had come from the lucky rabbit Oswald. He was throwing his whole weight against the cork of the bottle, coaxing it back in. Whatever was inside needed to stay inside. Without hesitation Gus and Mickey joined Oswald, and together their combined weight managed to force the cork back where it belonged. 

“Wheeew!” Mickey, Oswald, and Gus slumped against the cork, tired and relieved. Even Oswald seemed thankful, for once, to have had Mickey’s help. 

“That sure was close,” he said, somewhat reluctantly. “No one’s made it to the Jug in years,” he glanced at Mickey, who stood up and dusted himself off. 

“What’s in it?” he asked, looking up at the massive cork.   
He sort of knew the answer even before Oswald said it, but he didn’t want to believe it. The dark fluid he had seen inside that bottle could not be mistaken for anything but ink. 

“The Blot.” 

“But I-I’ve been fighting the Blot!” Mickey protested. What about all the huge ink monsters he had fought thus far? Surely defeating them would have weakened the Blot’s power!

“You haven’t even seen the REAL Blot!” Oswald scoffed at Mickey’s naivete. “We sealed the Blot up in this jug years ago. The guys YOU’VE fought are just drippings.” 

The rabbit noticed Mickey’s frustration and cocked his head innocently. “Oh, did I forget to mention that before?” he asked sarcastically. 

Gus rolled his eyes, irritated at Oswald’s attitude. “While the Blot remains in the bottle, his minions are on their own and are less powerful,” he informed Mickey. 

“But how did he get in there?” Mickey asked, genuinely curious. Gus gave Oswald a meaningful glance. Your story to tell. 

“My wife, Ortenisa, and I managed to lure the Blot up here to this jug,” Oswald began, his face darkening. “When the Blot came for me, we trapped him inside. We succeeded, but he very nearly dragged Ortensia in, too. I was able to pull her out, but it was too late.” 

He sighed dramatically. It was the first time he had told that story aloud, since everyone in Wasteland already knew it. But seeing the look of kind sympathy on Mickey’s face was somewhat gratifying. 

“We saved Wasteland, but I lost Ortensia,” Oswald finished shortly. “I stay here on the Mountain to guard the Jug.” 

“Oswald, I...I’m so sorry,” Mickey cautiously, slowly laid a hand on Oswald’s shoulder to comfort him. Mickey knew exactly what it was like to lose a loved one. His heart went out to the unlucky rabbit. 

Something about Mickey’s empathy, his careful gestures of comfort, won Oswald over. 

“Listen, Mouse, maybe I misjudged you,” he admitted. “Ortensia would want me to be more friendly, y’know? Let’s start over. Shake on it?”  
He held out his hand, open and vulnerable. 

Both Mickey and Gus brightened immediately. At last, Oswald was willing to be on their side! But when Mickey reached out to shake his hand, the mouse stopped midway. No. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. 

“What’s wrong?” Gus asked worriedly. He and Oswald stared at Mickey. 

Oswald had told his story. Mickey owed it to him, and to Gus and to everyone else in Wasteland, to tell his. 

“A while ago, I found this workshop…” he began. “I was sort of...messing around in there. There was paint, a-and thinner…” He glanced at his paintbrush. “Things got really out of control. I tried to fix it, but...I spilled the jug onto a...a gateway to this place.” 

Mickey screwed his eyes shut, took a deep breath and braced himself. “I caused the Thinner Disaster,” he confessed. 

There was a moment of horrified silence. 

“Oh, Mickey,” Gus whispered, almost inaudibly. He covered his mouth with his hands. 

Oswald had an entirely different reaction. His anger started at his feet and worked its way up to the tips of his ears, until his entire little body was shaking with rage. 

“That was YOU?!” He practically exhaled the word. 

“I’m really sorry,” Mickey hung his head in shame. He had made a terrible mistake, and it was time to face the consequences. 

“I should have known!” Oswald fumed. “You stole my life AND ruined my home!! Everything that’s happened to me--it all comes back to YOU!!!” 

“Oswald, please--” Gus pleaded, but Oswald was in no mood to listen. 

He hopped up onto the cork, his feet cracking it’s soft brown wood. “That’s it!! We’re settling this RIGHT NOW!” 

He put up his fists and puffed out his chest, making himself seem stronger than he really was. “C’mon, Mouse! You and me! Put ‘em up! I’m gonna knock you down a peg or two--!!” 

“Wait wait stop!!” Mickey and Gus cried out in terror. The cork Oswald was standing on was old and weak, and it only took a few rabbit steps to crack it. 

But by the time Oswald noticed this, it was too late. He looked down at the corkwood and the ink leaking out of it. His chest deflated sheepishly. 

“Uh oh.” 

“GET BACK! ITS BREAKING!”

And then the cork burst in an explosion of ink. Splinters of corkwood flew in all directions, embedding themselves in the surrounding mountain. A flood of ink, overlaid with paint and thinner, rushed out of the bottle in a torrential downpour. Mickey, Oswald, and Gus, having dodged the initial wave, could only watch helplessly as waves upon waves of ink shot out of the bottle, circling the mountain. Before their eyes the ink took shape, forming first claws, then hands and arms, and finally a full, massive body. Alien-like eyes, green as the thinner that made them, formed in the monster’s head and focused on the three toons standing on the summit of the mountain. 

The Blot, newly reformed and more powerful than ever, appeared in the Wasteland. 

Without warning, the Blot raised it’s giant black claw, and brought it down upon Mickey and Oswald. They hardly had time to move before the hand’s shadow overcame them, but--

“NO!” With a superhuman speed, Gus moved forward and shoved Mickey out of the way. It was an instinctive gesture, a desperate attempt on Gus’s part to save Mickey from Wasteland’s fate. Mickey landed just as the Blot’s hand came down, and he was sitting in between his fingers. 

When the Blot lifted his hand again, Oswald and Gus were gone. Mickey stood up, facing the monster, a lone mouse against an unstoppable beast. 

Wearing an ugly grin, The Blot held out his clenched hand to Mickey. Oswald and Gus were trapped in his fist, struggling helplessly. The two small toons had no chance against the ink beast. 

With his other hand, the Blot reached out to Mickey, but he did not attempt to grab him. He merely held his hand out, palm up, as though in invitation. Mickey did not understand. He looked up again at Oswald and Gus, and he saw the Blot’s hand tighten around them, saw them gasp for air. 

In the Blot’s outstretched palm, a little figure appeared. It had Mickey’s ears, and it had a heart. Mickey stared at it, hesitating. He could not, would not, give up his heart, his only ticket back home. Not to such an evil creature--

But then the Blot clenched his fist further around Oswald and Gus, and Mickey literally saw the color leaving them, the breath squeezed out of their little painted bodies, and then he knew he had no choice. It was either his heart, or his friends, and Mickey had made his choice before he even thought of it. 

With a determined sort of defiance, the mouse stretched out his chest, making his body vulnerable. The Blot’s grin widened. He pointed at Mickey, and one solitary finger stretched out, latched onto Mickey’s chest, and pulled out the heart. 

It was a strange experience, to have one’s heart taken. To Mickey it felt like all the warmth in his body momentarily left him, leaving his body as cold as a corpse. He gasped at the terrible sensation. When he looked up again, he saw his heart disappear into the ink, and he felt weak. 

At that moment, two globs of ink came flying towards Mickey, both of them landing close by. The Blot had kept his word; in return for Mickey’s heart, he had returned his friends alive. Immediately Mickey helped Gus up, helped him shake the ink off. 

“That was very brave of you,” said Gus warmly. Mickey smiled back weakly. “Where’s Oswald?” 

The two of them headed over to the other glob of ink and helped Oswald sit up. “Bet you’re sorry you had to save me too, huh?” the rabbit said miserably, wiping ink off. “This is all my fault. Well, that’s why they call me the lucky rabbit. Ha! What a joke.” 

The three of them looked up at the Blot; by now he had turned his attention elsewhere in Wasteland, having gotten what he wanted from Mickey. 

“It’s even bigger than I remember,” said Mickey softly. 

“Oh no, oh no,” Oswald’s voice broke. All the work he had put in all these years, the people’s suffering, Ortensia’s sacrifice-- it had all come undone in a few moments of pride and envy. 

But, shockingly, Mickey refused to lose hope. He had lost his heart, his only way back home was gone, and the true monster had been unleashed upon Wasteland. And yet he clenched his paintbrush in his hand, more determined than ever to make things right, even though things looked hopeless. 

“Looks like it’s up to us,” he said, boldly putting a hand around Oswald’s shoulder comfortingly. “C’mon, let’s get to Ostown and figure out a plan.”

And with that he let go and marched confidently toward the projector screen. The two Wastelanders, Oswald and Gus, watched him go. It had been many years since they had felt the kind of hope Mickey had, but somehow it was contagious. So they followed him, ready for the final battle.


End file.
